<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Two Horses Passing in the Night by D20Owlbear</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929088">Two Horses Passing in the Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear'>D20Owlbear</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RodeOmens [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Cowboy, Alternate Universe - Rodeo, Alternate Universe - Western, Aziraphale is a Calf Roper, Based off an image, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bentley is Crowley's Horse, Bitch does what she wants, Crowley doesn't even try, Crowley is a Bronc Rider, Everyone loves their horses in this house, I'm just playing in the sandbox, Image in chapter, Link to image in notes, Link to original post in notes, M/M, No taming her, Rated G for Gotdamn That's a Mighty Fine Cowboy Innit?, Rodeo Sports, Saddled Bronc Riding, She is the bronc Crowley rides, They're still Moron4Moron, Tie Down Roping, cassie-oh has a great au, it's so lovely ok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley is a bronc rider. Aziraphale is a skilled calf-roping, southern dandy. </p><p>This is how they meet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RodeOmens [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Can't no preacher man save my soul</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Come Here Often?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh/gifts">cassieoh</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based off of <a href="https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/611150208592740352/d20owlbear-cassieoh-so-uh-last-night-in-the">Cassie-Oh's RodeOmens</a> which I highly recommend and cannot wait until it gets written. </p><p>Mainly because I'm trash and went 900 words of feral over this picture lol.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The tinny clink of spurs came from around the corner and Aziraphale looked up from the rub-down he was giving his mare, currycomb in hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spurs, hmm?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rolled his eyes and thought to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably some showman looking for the intimidation factor. Or one of those fellas who ride broncos.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Aziraphale huffed to himself with a smile as his mare, Moiselle, nudged at his arm to get him working again. Bronc riders were wild and crazy and rarely worth the effort, in Aziraphale’s opinion, to get a word in edgewise, or at least among the ones he’s met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, how’d’ya do?” A rich, low voice called from behind him. Aziraphale pulled back his shoulders, stood to his full height, and frowned delicately at the tall, wiry man dressed in all black that leaned across his stall door with crossed arms and a smarmy grin as wide as his narrow face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite well, and you?” Aziraphale replied, and while his tone was plenty polite, anyone able to read a room at all would be able to tell in a heartbeat he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He glanced down the man’s body briefly before snapping his eyes back up. He even wore sunglasses inside? How odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wonderin’ how I missed the likes of you here before. New?” The man flicked up his hat as if it were the shade from the brim that made it hard to see indoors and not his sunglasses, and leaned in a bit more. Moiselle leaned over and lipped at the brim before shoving her nose into his shoulder, nuzzling for attention, and pulled a snort of laughter from the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, and hullo to you too. Buy me dinner first. By the way, I’m Crowley.” Crowley reached up to pet between her eyes and down to her nose with surprisingly delicate strokes. Or, well, surprising to Aziraphale, who wasn’t expecting much from a cowboy all dressed in black and red like he was a villain in an old spaghetti western. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure, I’m sure. My name is Aziraphale,” He replied, sighing. Moiselle rarely took as immediate a liking to anyone, she was a prissy, temperamental thing, and he could feel what little admiration he had for the be-spurred man rise. Just a little. “And no, I’m not new. I’ve been stabling here for a couple years now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he took off his hat with a casual air to run a hand through his hair. Bright copper red, like rust-water. For some reason, Aziraphale couldn’t help but think it matched his look and he couldn’t stop the thought that caught him by surprise, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if he matches or if it’s a box dye…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, it was highly recommended for between rodeos. Unfortunately, I don’t have my own stables, hence being here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, same here. I’ve got the big black job in the corner.” Crowley drawled, low like it might be a secret, like it wasn’t a conclusion Aziraphale could have made eventually on his own, and pointed down the row of stalls. “Bastard, but I love her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bucking horse?” Aziraphale asked primly, a small smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d ya know? Can’t break her of it and can’t say I really want to at this point.” Crowley replied, looking back at Aziraphale, only to wince when it seems his ‘big black job’ caught sight of him and leaned hard against the stall door while banging her hooves against the door and neighing impatiently. Crowley hoped the latch would hold, she was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fright</span>
  </em>
  <span> whenever she got out on her own and would make him chase her until she was bored of it. “Welp, sorry, rude of me to keep a lady waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale huffed a laugh under his breath and watched amused as Crowley backed away, tipping his hat politely with a particularly flirtatious smirk-smile. He made it all of three steps and went to turn to saunter over to the black horse in the corner with a happy scolding of “Bentley, what’ve we talked abou—” and then promptly caught his toe on the back of his own spur, falling face-first into the hard-packed dirt of the stable floor, hands out wide and doing nothing to stop his fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale laughed loudly, “Oh my dear boy, are you alright?!” He asked, making his way over to the prone man sedately and offering him a hand up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, ‘s fine. Think I might’a just died though for a bit, since I heard an angel laugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale flushed a light pink and gaped at him, only to laugh again when he</span>
  <em>
    <span> thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley attempted to wink behind his sunglasses but only succeeded in making an odd face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, angel!” Crowley popped up and swaggered over to his horse, a bit faster this time, as if he hadn’t just eaten it in front of someone he was attempting, quite charmingly, to flirt with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to Moiselle, Aziraphale curried her coat more and she leaned towards him happily at the attention. A few moments later, the spurs passed behind him with the clop of horse hooves and the rambunctious deluge of words Crowley rambled at his horse, all about his day and how terrible someone named Hastur is, right girl? And Aziraphale caught himself watching the sway of Crowley’s hips as he walked out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, Aziraphale had rather high standards, but then a bronc rider tipped his hat and tripped over his own feet, and all Aziraphale could think was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, he’s meeting all my standards.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Crowley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley watches the calf-roping events and <i>oh no, Aziraphale's good at this</i>.</p><p>Standards: Met.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once more, this is a sandbox of Cassie-Oh's devising and I've already basically started writing AU of this AU, but she's letting me anyway. </p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/188161472144">So PLEASE! Go read her first post about it, it's got art!!</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley was awash with nerves. It was comp-day and the rodeo was in full swing already. He regretted eating that rack of ribs so fast in order to catch one Mr. Aziraphale Fell's calf-roping event. He'd practically swallowed his lunch whole to get a good seat in time; a perfect spot right in the sun on aluminum benches, and he was pretty sure his ass was gonna get seared enough to find in a steakhouse dumpster by the end of this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that'd all be worth it, because he had one of the best seats in the house, right up against the fence about a third of the way down the arena from the starting gates. If Aziraphale were any good, at 9 seconds or less, he'd be right in front of Crowley or thereabouts when he tied up the calf. Not that Crowley would know, of course. Certainly not because he was familiar with various rodeo events, or because he had watched videos of calf roping to figure out how far they made it depending on the time. And, he figured, he could just watch Aziraphale’s backside if he weren’t any good at all. Win-win really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat, shifting side to side until the bench was finally cool enough to not burn his ass right off, and waited. Not patiently, as Crowley was not a patient man, but still enough to be mistaken for patience if you didn’t look at him too hard. The bleachers filled until about half of them were used up by families of calf ropers and those enthusiastic about the event and there were only a couple minutes until the event started in earnest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first two ropers were alright, they hit around 10 seconds or so and the third roper was pretty damn good at flying but didn’t get a time at all ‘cause their calf broke free from their tie. Crowley was actually a bit sorry to see it, since he might’ve gotten down to about 8 seconds if he’d managed it, but not tying a real knot was probably part of that quickness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next rider’s Aziraphale Z. Fell and Moiselle.” The announcer called and Crowley sat up straighter, crossed his arms over the top of the metal fence, ignored the burning through his shirt at the sun-baked heat of it, and leaned in to keep a sharp eye on Aziraphale. If he was right, and he usually was about these sorts of things, Aziraphale was a better than average roper. He seemed in control of all his movements and what little Crowley saw of his forearms while he curried his horse was… well, there’s a reason he’d been distracted from fetching The Bentley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his seat, Crowley could see Aziraphale perched on Moiselle’s back, half-hidden in the shade of the canopies that had been rigged up before the start of the rodeo and he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the sheer determined focus coming off the man in waves like heat off blacktop even if he couldn’t quite get a read on his eyes from this far away. But that didn’t matter; the calf gate slammed open and Aziraphale set Moiselle back on her haunches, getting her ready to explode after the calf without breaking the barrier too soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Moiselle wasn’t as long or tall as The Bentley, but Crowley’s horse was a beast of a thing that enjoyed throwing her weight around until she got her way (Crowley, of course, spoiled her to bits which didn’t help, though he’d never admit to it aloud), so she could get likely two-and-a-half full strides until she hit the end of the enclosure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, this hadn’t been as terrifying as an unseen dryrattle to watch when Crowley didn’t care much about the horse or the rider. But this time he was tense. The barrier cord was still up, the breakaway rope around the calf's neck still slack, when Moiselle started to move. She’d hit her stride quickly, Crowley knew that from ‘just passing by’ Aziraphale’s practices leading up to the competition here. He and Moiselle had this down to a science, but the initial panic of </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’ll run through the barrier</span>
  </em>
  <span> never faded. If they were too quick and broke the barrier before the calf tripped the lever to release it, there'd be no recovering from the time penalty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line broke free from the calf at six seconds by Crowley's count, the timer started, and Aziraphale was exploding from the box with the rope above his head and complete and utter trust in Moiselle to do her job. Crowley’s heart pounded in time with Moiselle’s hooves as they thundered over the dirt. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Aziraphale’s hand and arm as the lasso above his head turned once, twice, three times and then was loosed. Aziraphale was already out of his seat, his weight thrown to one side and his leg coming up for a dismount and suddenly Crowley understood why it was called flying. Maybe he wasn’t crazier than a peach orchard shoat when he called Aziraphale an angel before, not when the brief shade of cloud across the sun made it look like the man had wings for all of a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his breath unconsciously until the rope looped around the calf’s neck and stopped it, and the gentlest roping Crowley had seen in his life. The calf turned and damn near trotted up to Aziraphale, causing Moiselle to back up further than most to keep the rope taut and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh–</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley knew it was a part of the competition, but Aziraphale had his sleeves rolled up for some godforsaken reason, and he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> the strain of his forearms as he swiftly lifted a 280lb calf, give or take, off its legs and flipped it onto its back. Crowley swallowed heavily, darn near </span>
  <em>
    <span>gulped</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at Aziraphale’s form. He was hot as an ember in a coal mine under the collar and it had nothing to do with the sun raging on above. Aziraphale gathered three of its hooves, wrapped the piggin tie, and stood with hands in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>6.55 seconds. Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It would be a lie if Crowley said that finish time didn’t have him sweating like a whore in church when the preacher got to a relevant verse. It’d also be a lie if he’d said he hadn’t suddenly wondered what it’d be like to be picked up and thrown like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale didn’t even look winded, and Crowley's jaw dropped without his say-so as Aziraphale made eye contact with him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiled</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The bastard.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/188161472144">Go visit Cassie-Oh's first post about this AU, it's got art!!</a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire">https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire</a><br/>Tumblr: <a href="https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/">https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/</a></p><p>All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message! I also take graphic/banner/emoji requests and writing prompts/requests.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Aziraphale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale goes to see the saddle broc riding event.</p><p>Turns out, Crowley's <i>quite good.</i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley had been at the tie-down roping event. Aziraphale forcibly regulated his breathing despite feeling like his heart was pounding like driven cattle across well-packed trails. Crowley had seen him hit one of his best times. Everything had gone so smoothly;  Moiselle was as canny as always, and Aziraphale had smiled </span>
  <em>
    <span>cheekily</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Crowley over his shoulder like he had any idea what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that thought, Aziraphale had to stop and lean on Moiselle’s shoulder, clutching at his heart through his impact vest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right, okay, take care of Moiselle, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Azirpahale ordered himself sternly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then get out of the vest before you sweat right through, and </span>
  </em>
  <span>then</span>
  <em>
    <span> you can go get lunch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If the brisket sandwiches he was thinking of getting were next to the bronc area, well then that was its own matter now, wasn’t it? So, he curried Moiselle and took his time praising her for her good work and making sure he got up all the dirt that might blemish her coat and towelled her down after to make sure she was set until he was ready to visit her again and pack out for the day. She’d already been warmed up and exercised and cooled down plenty so the drive back to their home stable would be pleasant enough, he hoped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing once more, Aziraphale pulled a kerchief from his pocket, wiped his forehead, and placed his hat back on his head from its spot on top of his suede and leather vest, hung up for after the event. He gave Moiselle's flank one last pat before pulling on the vest and doing the shining buttons up proper on his way toward lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How d'ye do, Houston.” Aziraphale greeted with a genuine smile and a head tilt as he approached the brisket stand. The man there was something like an old friend, or at least someone he knew well enough to joke with a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Howdy yourself, Beaumont.” The vendor greeted him, they never really got talking about their actual names, but they had talked about where they were from, more or less, and about all sorts of other things to be found in various cities on the rodeo circuit. Aziraphale, of course, was happy to announce this brisket was the whole reason he came here, and not the PRCA  qualification.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now you know I ain't from Beaumont, of all places! I'm from Nacogdoches." Aziraphale said with a laugh, happily revisiting well-trod trails of their acquaintanceship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Might be, but I ain't got time for all them syllables, and I ain't callin' you Nak, neither." The vendor handed over the sandwich in a hot dog basket and grinned slyly at Aziraphale. They exchanged a few more pleasantries while Aziraphale waited for his sandwich to cool, and when he checked his watch again,  he started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gotta run! Don't wanna miss the next event. Mind how you go, Houston!" Aziraphale exclaimed, tilting his hat politely, and trotted towards the arena. He looked at the benches, still undoubtedly scorching from the sun that hadn’t left it longer than a handful of minutes ago, and made a decision. With all the nonchalance he felt, nearly none, and everything he could muster, quite a bit more, he moseyed over to the buck chutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paid minimal attention to the bronc riders waiting for their turns and watching a handful of rides. A couple of them were pretty damned good, Aziraphale thought to himself, decent form and plenty of energy to keep them on the bronc for a while. While he certainly wasn’t a judge for the event, Aziraphale had been around long enough to pick up a bit, at least for what it was supposed to look like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Crowley settled onto the back of a smaller, dun horse and he nearly dropped the few bites left of his sandwich. Crowley looked lively like this, filled with an energy that honestly stole the breath from Aziraphale. Like a live wire sparking on the ground, with all the potential of a supernova shoved into a corporeal body. Aziraphale was willing to bet that if he was able to see past those damned glasses of Crowley’s, he’d see his eyes sparking too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An electrical surge fled down his spine and his mouth dried with the sudden abiding conviction he’d like nothing more than to see that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, like in a dream, Crowley was out of the chute on an amazingly agile horse that seemed to leap to heights it shouldn’t be able to and bucked wildly. Time moved, all at once, too fast and too slow for Aziraphale. There were some thoughts of Crowley’s form, he kicked at all the right times and his free hand was firmly above his head until he was thrown. But he couldn’t seem to take in the seconds count, didn’t think to keep track, not with all the thoughts of taught muscle hidden by slim black shirts and strong thighs filling his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes in a shuddering breath as Crowley pops up and heads back to the chute with a whoop and a grin as his score was announced, and vaguely Aziraphale takes in the fact its the highest score announced since he’d made it to the arena. He still feels like he’s thinking his way through molasses, thick and sweet and slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Howdy, angel.” Crowley grinned, bright and fierce, tipping his hat as he climbed up over the sides of the chute, not bothering to wait for the gate to open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Howdy, yourself.” Aziraphale murmured, voice surprising himself for how low and rough it was. Crowley sucked in a deep breath and Aziraphale stood to his full height from where he was leaning against the bars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How ‘bout a drink, angel? To celebrate?” Crowley asked, speaking low enough not to break this tension between them they weren’t going to name, not yet at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re angling for a temptin’,” Aziraphale replied with a slow smile, “I do think you’ve accomplished it, my dear.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please also check out more great additions to the RodeOmens 'verse here!!</p><p>- There's art on tumblr by Ran <a href="https://ran196242.tumblr.com/post/611962569909043200">here</a><br/>- The ORIGINAL WORK FROM CASSIEOH <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655554">here</a><br/>- And a KISS SCENE based off of Ran's work <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GothicOmens/works/23255653">here</a> from sosobriquet that looks like it'll get a nsfw chapter soon!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Edit: OK u greedy gremlins, I'll write more. 2 more chapters about this length of a rodeo they both participate in and that's it! <br/>Edit: Mar 27, u got what you wanted, i love you all so dearly thank you so much for your support! Please also visit ran196242, cassie-oh, and sosobriquet on Tumblr as well as on AO3 for more art and fic in this 'verse! I've also made this a series where I'll be posting more one-shot snippets of Aziraphale and Crowley in this AU so subscribe there if you're interested in updates for more.</p><p>Come find me in a couple of places!</p><p>Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire">https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire</a><br/>Tumblr: <a href="https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/">https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/</a></p><p>All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message! I also take graphic/banner/emoji requests and writing prompts/requests.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>